With nothing but his clothes, there was a whisper behind the back of his head that perhaps he might as well just wake up one day in the forest buck naked. After all, if he were to be put in a survival situation - which he was - it would have been the cherry on the top.
Where did it even begin…
Right.
He took one clumsy step and he suddenly found himself face flat on the asphalt road, with the screeching of tires being the last thing he heard.
His head crushed like a watermelon on a juice press.
Yet he breathes.
He must be mad.
Insane.
Is it a line between madness and fantasy?
Both does have the condition in which it does not have to make sense. But in the context of entertainment, the latter has to have rules to follow to grant the suspension of belief for its audience to find themselves lost, yet willing to be so. Crumbs for the wanderlust to follow that entice them through the finale.
He was lost, sure. He was not entertained. Especially when he was upside down. Tied to a pole. By some sort of alien tribal savages. They don cute masks by the way. He just hope their diet does not include human meat.
If he wouldn't budge by his parents' repeated insinuation to have children, then he wouldn't budge now in this situation. Or rather… maybe that's because this situation was absurd to the point there's no point to ponder and care.
You can't answer a question that can't be answered.
Or perhaps it was thanks to his apathy that he could keep himself calm.
That's just him.
[Hello there! Welcome to the enchanting realm of Tevyat!
We are thrilled to have you join us on this epic journey through a world filled with magic, adventure, and endless possibilities.
As you step into this fantastical realm, prepare to leave behind the mundane and embrace a world brimming with mythical creatures, ancient civilizations, and untold mysteries waiting to be unraveled. You are no longer just a mere mortal; you are now a hero destined to shape the destiny of this realm with your courage, wits, and va-
…
… He's gone mad.
He's gone so mad.
So far down the rabbit's hole, his cranium cracked from the fall.
"Ah," He groaned, fidgeting to find a little more comfort. If he were to be executed here and now, he might as well try to feel at home.
He did not bother reading the rest of the hallucinatory letter. Though he has to admit that while his sanity might need some fixing, he was impressed by how capable his mind was to come up with something like this. For a second, he would have mistaken that he was wearing ultralight augmented reality glasses. Skimming the letter, there was a question at the end of the letter.
[Please enter your name:]
"John Smith," He scoffed.
To enjoy life is to enjoy the little things. Was there any point in giving a serious answer? No. He was a no-one, so he might as well choose something forgettable. Besides, he was about to die again anyway, and as if there weren't doubts he was dreaming in the first place. It was a mere distraction in his helplessness as these tribal savages prepared their cauldron, which if anything, does not embody peace.
They better make a damn good meal out of him, because if he can't take responsibility to make himself less worthless than he already was to society, the least they could do is to honor his carcass, to make something worth out of his meat and bones.
"Hey! You! Are you alright!?" A feminine voice screeched struck with panic, "Don't worry! I'll save you!"
He could only raise an eyebrow as the numerous savages - and the really big ones - charge with a war cry to a lone silhouette standing atop a hill. From the number of flaming arrows raining down - miraculously not one hitting him - you'd think there was a battalion of archers throwing a volley.
But apparently, through some bullshit, this woman could do it herself.
Magic, he thought, as he could not explain how else it could have been done. Not that he could explain everything else going on before this eventful slaughter.
Death came from the heavens. The savages who whacked him to sleep were slain, burning alive, screaming, screaming, screaming, screami-
He didn't know whether to feel bad for them. Damn it, they were the ones who kidnapped him in the first place. Their numbers only added to her tally, their clubs and crossbows meant nothing to this savior of his. With the last one disintegrating into dark ashes, the girl in red ran up to him.
Being upside down made his eyes fail to discern her face.
"Oh archon please be alive!"
For someone who barely had the will to live, he felt touched. No one has ever expressed such worry for him before coming from a stranger. Though if he were to be honest, perhaps her worry would be better placed for someone else.
"Oh goodness! Thank Barbatos you're okay!"
Barba - what?
Bartabos who?
Who the hell is Barsibato? Or was it Bartobas - wait, it doesn't matter right now.
He felt the ropes being sawed back and forth with her knife - where she pulled that out, he didn't see. The glare of the sun made him wince when he tried looking up - or down, relative to his orientation if specifics are to be emphasized - to his savior. Her long brown hair tickled his face. In the midst, he caught a glimpse of her red, shiny ornament hanging from her child bearin-
No. Now's not the time.
"Let's get you out of here. There might be other-"
The ropes came loose - and like a ragdoll, he fell head-first to the ground hard.
"Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to - oh archons above-"
Her last words were lost, his consciousness slipping to darkness.
Who the hell is Barbisota anyway?
...
"Is he alright?" Amber looked worryingly as Kaeya stepped out of the office with a calm but concerned expression. "I heard there was a scuffle earlier."
"I don't know how to say this… but I think he might have hit his head harder than I think." Kaeya turned to her anticipating look, expecting an elaboration, "I'm not sure if he's delusional or just amnesiac. Probably a bit of both, and that in itself calls for a specialist."
"Ugh," She crossed her arms. "Don't be cryptic. This is serious. He needs all the help he can get."
"Cryptic? Hardly. Whatever hit him, hit him hard. I don't think even Barbara's magic can do anything about it. Just… just check on him."
He moved over the door and leaned on the wall, breaking eye contact to leave her be, wearing a frown.
Amber stood in silence for a moment, before gently opening the door just slightly to take a peek.
John Smith sat on a stool, with his head depressed on the table, hands gripping his hair in frustration. His wrists were bound by a pair of handcuffs, and his foot was chained to the ground.
She silently shut the door.
"What happened?!" She hissed.
Kaeya didn't bother to look her in the eye, only to stare at the opposite wall with his eyes half shut, "When you went on to report to Jean's office after you handed him to us, I interviewed him by the book. Long story short, he claims he's not from around here or anywhere in Tevyat… and that's the sanest-sounding claim compared to the rest. I could share the details, but it's all nonsensical hodgepodge - he went on an insane rant, called us all liars, tried to escape, and now… well, you can see where that got him."
Amber gave herself seconds to process the summary.
"Sounds… complicated."
"You tell me. I'm just glad no one's hurt. I've done what I could soooo~" He shrugged, leaning his head to the side avoidantly, "Since you're the one who found him, he's yours. I got someplace to be. See ya."
"Hey!" Amber sighed as she was left alone in the dungeons, watching the Calvary Captain wave a hand goodbye and sauntered to the stairs that lead to the ground floors, "Ugh. One minute I see Kaeya, the next he's slipping away…"
There was something odd that he realized. The moment he was asked his identity by the fabulous man, it was instinct he told the one he jokingly replied to this "game system."
John Smith.
Like it was natural. Like it had been the one given to him since he was born.
That wasn't his name.
Never was.
Never had been.
Yet it rolled off his tongue pretty smoothl-
Three careful knocks on the door.
"John - it is John, right? It's me."
Though muffled, he recognized that voice. The same brunette who hauled him to civilization. An unfamiliar one, but better to be here than with the masked savages, he supposed.
"I'll just let myself in if you don't mind."
And she did, with meekness and concern in her eyes that he could notice as she entered, shutting the door behind slowly.
"… You're the woman who saved me." Recognizing her, the least he could do was to look a little less undignified for his savior. He sat straight with a kind expression, proper and civilized. "Never got your name."
She did a solute. "Outrider Amber, of the Knights of Favonius."
From his perspective, military salutes were only given to the members of their organization. Quite odd for her to do that to him, a civilian, but relatively, he was the oddest one in the room. Likely the oddest one in this hypothetical city of a hypothetical nation in a hypothetical continent in a hypothetical world.
"I'm just here to talk about things," She said with a soft tone.
"If you're going to ask where I'm from, I'd rather spare you a headache," He breathed deeply, then turned into a long sigh, "It's the least I could return after what you did."
"If you don't want to dwell on your past… then that's alright. I promise I won't pry."
Sounds like she must have misunderstood. It's not that he has a criminal past he was guilty of. Rather, considering everything, there wouldn't be anyone there to believe like his origins… but whatever. He didn't have the energy to argue after everything.
"… You can't be confined here forever, you know?" She smiled reassuringly, "I just want to know what you'll do here from now on. We're happy to provide help and support… so… don't worry too much."
He would have to find a phone. Call the right authorities. Have them come here and find a way home. But people here keep insisting that telecommunications technology doesn't exist. And judging from the locals' reactions, have never existed in the first place.
"Do you mind if I can just… take a walk for a while? I need to think."
Amber looked at him for a while with careful consideration.
"Just promise me you won't cause trouble, all right?"
...
The cartwheels rattled as it was being pulled by a donkey.
A strange sight it was.
For him, especially.
He was used to the sight of automotive technology that dominated paved streets sandwiched between the concrete jungle of a city, where countless cars run past on a daily basis; a normal sight from his apartment.
Amber giggled beside him, "I'm sorry. Have you never… ever seen a cart before? You're staring quite hard at it… well, you're pretty much staring at basically everything."
"Well… uhh," The last time he saw an animal-driven vehicle was when he was visiting his grandparents from the countryside, and that was a long time ago when he visited their farm.
She replied with a curious humming, "Well… if you're curious, we call that round thing a wheel."
His wary gaze suddenly turned into amusement, "I know what a wagon is, Miss Amber."
The Outrider flushed in embarrassment for presuming he was... stupid. But her assumption would be justified in light of his head injuries, "Uhh I didn't mean to-"
"No. It's alright," Taking everything in sight, and realizing just how alien he is to the subtle onlookers, his plan to escape seemed to have escaped out of his mind. Was there even a "home" he could come back to at this point? It didn't seem likely.
At first, he thought he was in a town full of roleplayers who took it too far, but no amount of effort could fabricate the intricacies. If he were a conspiracy theorist, he would theorize that he was in a secret society brainwashed by the government, because who else would have the money and resources to pull something like this?
Besides, the brief torture of his death was no illusion. Sure, it was a nightmare, but he did not wake up on his bed, but instead somewhere far away. He has every right to go mad, but it was all thanks to the calming factor that had a significant effect on his mental state. That being the gentle wind. He never had this… this enjoyable sensation. This clean, untainted sensation vastly different from what he was used to pulled him out of the worries of his mind.
"Ya know… the wind here's nice…" It was hard to explain. It's like his nose could suddenly smell in 4K. But perhaps it was only because of the sky untainted by industrial filth.
Amber moved on and focused on the topic, "Mm! You wouldn't find any place all over Tevyat with air as blessed as Mondstadt's!"
His stride eased into a stroll, allowing him to absorb the picturesque scenery and the cobblestone pathways fully. The melodic tunes coming from a green-garbed bard reached his ears, infusing the surroundings with a tranquil ambiance that drew a small, captivated crowd. He was lost in all ways that matter, disconnected from reality. The more he explored, the more… lost he was in his immersion in the city. Anyone who would be thrown into his situation would be maddened by the insanity of it all.
Was it apathy?
What is he going to do now with his life? In the mental chaos, his stomach grumbled. Perhaps sating his hunger was first on the list. The problem was, he had no money. Even if he had, he'd stick out like a sore thumb with his ignorance of local decorum.
"Oh… Wanna come with me? I know a place. I'll treat you to a traditional Mondstadt delicacy - Sticky Honey Roast!"
...
"Can you read and write?" Kaeya was leaning on Jean's office table, giving a lax look to their interviewee.
"Nope," John answered, and that was true. The written characters here differ greatly from English script, so he'd already consider it a blessing he could even understand anyone in the first place.
"Can you count?"
"Yes, and also I know addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division," John replied meekly. "But, I don't know the scripts."
"You can't read letters and numbers… but you can count?" Kaeya raised an eyebrow. It was unusual that anyone would be taught mathematics without being taught how to read and write. They go hand in hand together is all.
"Well, we can just teach him. He just needs some remembering. We do need an accountant right now." The gorgeous purple witch reminded the Acting Grand Master. "Mind answering this one, darling? What's one thousand two hundred twenty-six minus one hundred eighty-two?"
"... Gimme a minute."
"Lisa, that's not something anyone can answer in an instant. This isn't Sumeru." Jean, sitting behind her desk, lightly scolded the purple witch. Jean reached her drawer, "We have an abacus if you need-"
"One thousand and forty-four."
Jean blinked. Everyone else raised an eyebrow except Amber who was the only one smiling, as if she already expected this.
"... Divided by two?" Continued Lisa.
"Five hundred twenty-two," John answered instantly with a blank face.
"Multiplied to one point five?"
"Five hundred twenty-two plus... two hundred eleven..." John muttered, then answered with a clear voice, "So that's seven hundred and thirty-three."
"Hoh~... How much do you need to add to make it a thousand?"
"One thousand minus seven hundred thirty-three... three hundred... two hundred... seventy... sixty... seven... you need two hundred sixty-seven."
With a smile, Lisa looked at the woman sitting beside her in anticipation. Jean, the Acting Grand Master, slid the beads of his abacus left and right. It took her half a minute to check before coming to a conclusion, which took the same time John answered all the questions.
"He's right."
Everyone in the room present looked for approval. For John, it was nothing to be proud of. It wouldn't be an insulting assumption that Mondstadt has a low literacy rate, and in extension their education rate. If he took reference back to medieval era Earth, it would make sense as education was limited to the higher echelon of society just above the commoners.
But perhaps he'd be proven wrong. It was too early to judge.
"So I take it that I did alright?" John asked humbly. He wasn't socially inept to the point he couldn't figure that their reaction wasn't obvious, but he wanted some clarifications, "I didn't know how to use an abacus..."
"You don't?" The temporary blonde leader perked, skeptical, "Regardless, you've done better than most people I know of. Unless you were a merchant, not everyone can do all that mentally."
"And fast too!" Amber passionately agreed.
"Hmm… I could imagine that you were some scholar before you lost your memories," Kaeya took a moment to ponder as he recalled his interview just earlier. John spoke words he was unfamiliar with, of places he hadn't heard of, of things that boggled the mind. Kaeya ultimately dismissed it as mere jargon in intellectual circles, just as he couldn't keep up with Lisa whenever she needed assistance in making potions.
"Lost my memories…" John made a contemplative look.
"I'm sure it'll come back one day, John," Amber's hazel eyes softened.
That was the narrative that everyone unanimously accepted, which was what John wouldn't dare to correct. It's either he embraces the lie, or goes straight into a straight jacket if he explains the truth of his origin.
Regardless of the surreal reality he was thrown in, what better incentive to adapt than not to sleep on the streets starving slowly and tripped of dignity? He detested to be in a situation where he would have to beg on the streets. Worse. God knows how they handle a mental patient. At best, a quick execution. At worst, slavery. He could imagine all sorts of ways how it would go for him.
Not all of them are good. He was a stranger who popped out of nowhere. He should be grateful that they were even willing to give him a job. He needs food. He needs a roof over his head. He needs money. He needs a job. Straight and simple.
Lisa nodded with a smile, "You can start tomorrow working with us and we'll see what you can do. We'll give you an allowance and Amber will lead you to your temporary lodgings here in our headquarters. Now… do you have any question?"
"… Uhh," The trio stared in anticipation, intent to listen over his concern. "How do you express… gratitude?"
"… Excuse me?" Jean raised an eyebrow. As one in the position to deal with politics and many diplomats, this was a question outlandish of all. They noticed John's growing anxious expression. His shoulders tensed as if he were standing in front of predators.
"John, you have the freedom to ask us anything. Could you please repeat that?" Jean reassured with a professional smile. What was John so worried about?
From John's perspective, he was in a vastly different culture. A handshake could mean anything here, so could be a deep bow. While it might be strange, asking was better safe than sorry.
"In your culture, how does one convey gratitude? A simple 'thank you' doesn't sound enough, and working on my would-be relegated tasks meets the bare minimum. So how do you… appropriately express deep gratitude?"
He swallowed.
The four went silent for a bit, and as they processed his words, became wide-eyed by the question itself. They thought he was being overly courteous, but they could not dismissively invalidate his plea with his nearly serious yet meek expression.
Kaeya bursts into giggles with a cheeky smile in hopes of lightening the atmosphere, finding his concern to be unfounded, "That was what you were anxious about?"
"Hey." Amber raised her hands in reassurance, embarrassed. "We're not aristocrats! There's no need to sound so forma-"
"Oh you're just so adorable~." Lisa walked to John, patting his shoulders while pinching his cheek playfully, their faces front to front as she bore a motherly expression. "There's no need to be so nervous, sweetie~."
Jean could only look at John with skepticism with the same intensity of his surprise. Normally, she would have already scolded Lisa for her unprofessional gesture, but John's peculiar and mortified mannerisms left an impression where she could compare him to a helpless, terrified pet lost in a predatory jungle.
Perhaps, as an exception, Lisa had the right judgment to use her charms to gift him a soothing grace.
… Just what did he go through?
She decided to grab her quill, then stopped the thought, unknowing where to even start. Protocol dictates that she take note of any person of interest, but where does she begin to describe John?
His way of speaking sounded unorthodox. Formal and educated, yet lacking the temperament and refinement of nobility. His conduct and mathematic skills imply a scholarly cultivation, but his lack of reading and writing ability would say otherwise. It could just be his amnesia, where time will take it back.
Hopefully.
But still... he gives off airs completely foreign in all metrics.
There were his clothes, outlandish by any reference. That's coming from someone who's dealt with visiting politicians, diplomats, and tributaries coming from all cultures. They were simple in design, but a quick inquisitive glance would reveal that they had the gloss of fine silk, yet softness of cotton. Not to mention his shoes; unornamental, yet it seemed it was of artisan make with all the strange yet fine details.
Perhaps to put it simply, he was a walking contradiction; an extraordinary masquerading as the ordinary, much like a nobleman walking the streets in commoner's clothes.
Hmm…
She would have some difficulty elaborating this on a written account.
"Amber, perhaps you should bring John over to his room already." Lisa let go of John, finding his slack-jawed expression to be amusing and adorable. "The sunset is mere hours away, but it's for the best that he be rested early."
Jean broke out of her conundrum, "… I agree. Amber? Would you please?"
With Varka's expedition having departed recently, it's to be expected that Mondstadt is significantly weakened and vulnerable to schemes and ploys in an unknown amount of time. Of course, this was to be expected. The Ordo Favonius has prepared everything in the absence of the majority of its members months prior during the planning stages.
At the very least, she can safely assume John is no agent of the wicked.
End
Update oct 1, 2023 - some slight rewrite
Update Jan 25, 2024 - some rewrites and rewording.